amagicalworld
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Her Bound Heart Ch. 3
🕑 Added 2023-01-12 17:20:17 +0000 UTCContent Warnings: Begging, CMNF, Food Play (Maple Syrup), Teasing, Breast Play, Squirting.
Harry turned the key in the lock, slowly pushing the door open once the wards had recognized his presence. He liked his house. The penthouse was on the top floor of a building in a quiet, chic part of Muggle London. As nice as Potter Manor was, as he grew up he had begun to understand why his parents had abandoned it in favor of a small cottage in Godric’s Hollow.
It was too big, too empty, a reminder of an era when the Potter clan wasn’t on the verge of extinction. Neither he nor his father had been too eager to return to that place. And while he had happily joined his father in living with their godfather in the deathtrap Sirius Black called home during his Hogwarts years, he’d been just as eager to take his coming-of-age gift and buy himself an apartment of his own. It gave him the freedom to live life on his own terms. He loved his father and godfather but the two men were far too nosey for comfort. He still remembered the stupid grin and wink his godfather had shot him when he’d come down for breakfast after the first time Susan snuck in to spend the night.
And that sex talk. Oh god, I never want to relive that day again, Harry thought slipping inside the apartment and shutting the door behind him. The dog and deer analogy they used was more traumatizing than if they’d just walked in on me spanking Susan.
He was surprised to see the fire already lit, the quiet flames bathing his living room with a warm, orange glow. His hand pushed into his pocket and wrapped around his wand. Both he and his father had made their fair share of enemies over the years and while a cursebreaker from Gringotts had set up his wards, they weren’t impenetrable.
He relaxed at the sight of his new sugar baby curled up on the couch, her face buried in a book.
“Let me guess, Patricia gave you her key,” Harry said, pulling his hand out of his pocket.
Hermione’s eyes shot up from the book. She blushed when she realized she had been too engrossed in the book to notice his arrival. She gave him a sheepish nod, moving to sit up on the sofa. “Uh, I didn’t… she said it was my key. I thought you wanted me to have it,” Hermione murmured, her voice hoarse from disuse.
Patricia. Really? Do you think this little pixie is ‘the one’? She’ll leave in a week.
He kept his thoughts and Patricia’s motives in giving her the key to himself. “Twangle’s Tales.” Harry nodded at the book in her hands.
Hermione nodded enthusiastically, an enormous grin on her face. “I’ve never come across a first edition before, so I’ve never had a chance to read his unpublished notes.”
“And?” He slumped into the couch, leaning into the soft cushion with a quiet sigh. “What did you think of Mr. Twangle’s notes?”
“Oh.” Hermione blushed. She hadn’t realized he had read the book. He seemed to be far too busy a man to waste time on fanciful tales of travel and cuisine. “I think-” she squealed as he effortlessly pulled her into his lap. “Well, his insights into the magical communities of Asia and Europe are great, but he seems to have gotten lazier by the time he reached the Americas. They changed a lot of what he wrote in those particular sections in the later editions.”
“He was a hundred and twenty when he landed in Florida, love. His assistant was doing most of the writing by that time,” Harry explained, lazily unbuttoning her blouse. “You brought your suitcase,” he observed, glancing at the single battered piece of luggage resting against his armchair. “I thought the contract mentioned that the first month is a trial period? You only have to move in if you wish to continue the arrangement after the month is up.”
Hermione’s blush deepened. “I-I know,” she stuttered, twiddling her thumbs. “I’ve gone through the contract. I’ve memorized it and digested everything it says. I’m ready,” she said, unable to disguise the quiver in her voice.
“Reading about something and experiencing it are two different things, Miss Granger. Why the eagerness to move in?” Harry challenged with a raised eyebrow. He helped her slip out of her blouse, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor.
Hermione gulped. She had no doubt he’d sniff out any lie. He dealt with bullshitters in his line of business day in and out. “Uhm… well, my roommate moved in with her sugar daddy a couple of days ago. This was the last month we paid rent on our apartment and I can’t afford the place on my own,” she explained softly, hoping the man wouldn’t judge him. The more she heard herself talk, the more she was convinced he’d just think of her as a fraud and a gold digger. “I have money saved up and I can move into a cheap hotel for a month if you’d prefer!” she added quickly. “I just thought that since the contract stipulates that I have to sleep in a room assigned to me which I presume won’t be your bedroom, it’d be like we’re in two different apartments anyways. Your living room is bigger than my bedroom and bathroom combined. Logically it’s easier if I just moved in now instead of a month later.”
“We’d still be sharing the flat, Miss Granger.”
Hermione nodded. That much was very true.
“The one-month clause is to ease you into the arrangement. I’d be happy to pay the rent for your apartment for the next month,” he murmured, unclipping the practical white bra she wore with a quiet SNAP.
“I don’t think that’s a good use of your money, sir,” Hermione whispered, biting her lip as he pulled the bra away from her petite breasts. Her rosy peaks immediately pebbled in the chilly air, her breasts quivering as her breathing sped up.
“You know, Miss Granger-” His index finger pressed into her soft skin and began to trace the rim of her large, pink areola. She moaned quietly, subconsciously tilting her hips towards him. “Most sugar babies negotiate up, not down,” he said, amused. Her innocence was endearing.
“I just don’t want you to spend money in an illogical fashion, sir,” Hermione whispered, her breath hitching as his fingers popped open the button of her jeans. The man truly did not seem to waste any time in going after what he wanted.
“Maybe you should be my accountant. The idiot wants me to invest in Comet broomsticks when everyone knows Firebolts are the future,” Harry grunted, slowly getting to his feet. He ignored her tiny squeak, ensuring her arms were wrapped around his neck before he started walking toward the kitchen. “Lock your legs around me, darling,” he whispered, ignoring his cock rapidly stiffening at the feel of her breasts squished against his firm chest. “Did you have dinner?”
“I thought we were going to eat together, sir. But now I’m getting a distinct feeling that I’m to be the main course,” she teased. Feeling quite brave all of a sudden, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and began to leave a trail of gentle kisses to his collarbone.
“You’re the dessert, Miss Granger,” Harry replied in an amused growl, setting her down on the black marble of the kitchen counter. He clicked his fingers and the candles sprung to life, bathing the room with much-needed light.
Hermione ignored his heated gaze. Could someone cum simply from a look? Because she was certain that was exactly what would happen if she kept looking at the handsome hunk pulling down her pants.
She suddenly wished she had asked Ginny to teach her more things.
“What’re the boxes for, sir?” Hermione asked, deciding it was safer to focus on the three large cardboard boxes on the dining table.
“They’re your welcome gifts, Miss Granger. You didn’t notice them?”
“I didn’t explore the house, sir. This is the first time I’m seeing them,” Hermione replied. “I saw the books on the rack in the living room and…” she trailed off, lifting her hips at his gentle touch to allow him to pull her jeans and panties down her legs.
“Books are your obsession,” Harry teased, carefully draping her clothes on a chair.
Hermione responded with a shy nod.
Harry chuckled and walked to the fridge. “Do you like pancakes?” he asked, pulling out the jar of batter and looking at her appraisingly.
Hermione tilted her head. Was it a test? “For dinner?”
Harry responded with a shrug. “It’s either this or we go out, because I have nothing else in the house.”
“Pancakes it is.” She had no desire to put on clothes and give up the chance to revel in the heated glances he was shooting at her naked body. The idea that he found her hot made her feel like a goddess and she wasn’t eager to give that up for a fancy meal.
She watched him arrange everything on the stove, idly swinging her legs in the air. “Do you cook dinner for all your sugar babies?” she teased.
“Some,” Harry replied, deflecting the question with an easy smile. It was only the second time he would be cooking for a woman he had or wanted to fuck. Susan didn’t count because she was… well, Susan. The best friend he occasionally slept with and with whom he had zero romantic chemistry. Cooking for her was safe. As for the rest… he didn’t quite know what it was about Hermione that made him want to take care of her in a way he hadn’t particularly cared for with his other sugar babies. “I just have a thing against fucking pretty little pixies on an empty stomach.” He spread the batter on the pan, flicking the switch on the stove to low.
“I’m not that tiny,” Hermione protested with a pout. “Just because all the others you interviewed had a few inches on me and… and artificially inflated assets doesn’t mean I’m tiny,” she said grumpily, crossing her arms over her chest.
Harry laughed, gently kissing her pouting lips. He was in a far gentler mood than he had been during the interview, although he was certain that would change as the night progressed. He grabbed her wrists, gently pulling her arms away from her breasts before he grabbed the large jar of maple syrup, pulling it across the counter towards them.
“I like tiny things. I like that you’re my pretty little pixie,” he whispered, picking up the basting brush. He dipped it into the maple syrup, whistling happily as he began to swirl the soft, syrup-coated rubber in concentric circles, starting with dropping a dollop of the sweet liquid on her stiff nipples and slowly working his way outwards.
Hermione watched with wide eyes as he grabbed her knees, roughly pushing her legs apart. “O-oh god,” she moaned loudly at the gentle slap of the brush right up against her soaked pussy. She half expected him to push it inside her, but he simply began to paint down her thighs in long strokes, coating her skin with the sweet and sticky liquid. “Y-you don’t hesitate in going after what you want, do you?” Hermione breathed, angling her hips to give him greater access.
“The ones that do never win, Miss Granger.” He flipped the brush, gently pushing the slender handle inside her tight pussy. “I’ll give you a pass tonight since you’ve been such a good little pixie and you’re still settling in, but if you ever fail to address me with the right title after tomorrow, I will tan your ass with my belt,” he murmured, pausing when he felt resistance. Her virginity was the most precious gift she could ever give him. He had no desire to waste it. No, Hermione Granger would be deflowered by his cock with her walls quivering around his shaft and his name spilling from her pretty lips.
Hermione groaned. The thin handle had already stretched her out incomprehensibly, her walls fluttering around the slick glass bar. “U-understood, sir.” She had no idea how she was ever going to take the monster she had encountered that morning, not when even his basting brush made her feel so full.
She watched as he withdrew, whistling jauntily. He moved back to the stove and flipped the pancake before reaching up to a cabinet and pulling out plates for them. Despite the fact that she had eaten nothing after the leftover pizza and coffee she had for breakfast, food was the furthest thing from her mind.
She glanced at her chest, the gelatinous maple syrup rolling off her mounds and dripping down to her flat stomach in thick trails. Wasn’t he going to lick her clean?!
That was how things usually went in the movies. One glance at her dominant told her he was in no hurry. He was a predator and she was his prey, and he very much wanted to play around with his meal.
Her eyes traveled lower, down to the glass handle sticking out of her wet slit and the delicious ache spreading through her core. Her shaky fingers wrapped around the brush, gently rocking it in and out of her pushy, her lower lip trapped between her teeth to stifle her moans. The sizzling of the batter covered up the quiet sloshing sound the handle made pumping in and out of her soaked womanhood.
She presumed he was too preoccupied with stacking pancakes to notice. She had presumed wrong.
“Eager, are we?” His breath was hot on her skin, the girl too distracted to even notice when he leaned over. His hand wrapped around her slender wrist.
“Please! Please, sir!” She begged when his hand stopped her desperate pumping. She had been on edge ever since their little tryst in his office and to be denied the ultimate pleasure when she was so close was nothing short of torture. “Please! Let me cum, sir!”
“You might go too far in the throes of passion, darling,” Harry murmured, slowly pulling the brush out of her. Her walls clamped around the handle in a desperate attempt to trap it in place but it was of no use.
“Please,” she sobbed, looking at him with big brown eyes.
“Soon, little one,” Harry whispered, kissing her sweaty forehead. “Didn’t you touch yourself when you got home?” He asked, studying the shiny handle of the basting brush. He grabbed her chin, making her look at him as he licked the handle clean.
“My, Miss Granger. You taste heavenly,” he whispered, moaning at the delicious intermingling of her tangy arousal with the sweetness of the maple syrup. Hermione blushed. She parted her lips when he pushed the tip of the handle against them, obediently taking it into her mouth.
His hand held her head in place as he lazily began to fuck her mouth with the handle, slowly pumping its length in and out of her mouth.
GLUCK. GLUCK. GLUCK.
Hermione was nothing if not a quick learner, and she relaxed her throat muscles as he made her give messy head to the handle. Thin trickles of drool streamed out from the corners of her mouth, coating her chin and dripping down to her already messy breasts.
“Consider this training for my cock,” he whispered, his gorgeous green eyes glinting playfully.
Her eyes flickered over to him and she smiled, forcing herself to breathe through her nose as the tip slowly pushed into her throat. It was much easier to manage than his girthy shaft, but in her rather subjective view, her own arousal didn’t taste anywhere near as good as his cum had.
“Phancake!” she warned, taking advantage of the split second between him pulling the handle out of her mouth and pushing it back in.
Harry sighed and reluctantly pulled away from her. He tossed the brush into the sink, its purpose served. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Did you touch yourself when you got home?” Harry asked, flipping the last pancake onto her plate before switching the stove off.
“I-I did,” Hermione confirmed with a shy nod.
“Why the desperation to cum, then, princess?” Harry asked, rolling up a pancake and dipping it in the syrup. “Or are you on a hair trigger after spending so many years as a nun?” He teased, holding out the pancake in front of her lips.
She bit into it, sighing with contentment. Like everything else he made, it tasted absolutely heavenly.
“I didn’t cum,” Hermione admitted.
“Why not?”
“Your rules say I’m not allowed to cum without permission.”
Harry laughed, a look of real joy on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself this much.
“Why’d you touch yourself then?” Harry asked, feeding her the rest of the pancake.
“There was no rule against touching myself without permission,” Hermione mumbled.
“You are by far the strangest-” Harry shook his head at her crestfallen face, “and cutest sugar baby I’ve ever had. You make me happy, Miss Granger. Very few people manage to do that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hermione whispered, a huge grin on her face at the unexpected praise. “You’re not eating anything. Your contract also said we’d have dinner together every day,” she said with puppy dog eyes.
This girl is going to be the death of me, Harry thought, his heart skipping a beat at the cuteness on display. I don’t know if I want to cuddle her or rail her in a pretty little sundress. Probably both.
He pushed the image of his tiny submissive in a bright yellow sundress, desperately trying to stifle her moans as he fucked her in a secluded corner of the park during the annual Ministry picnic out of his mind.
“You’re right,” he said, handing her the plate in his hands. “Did you think of something while touching yourself?” Hermione nodded shyly. “Tell me about it as we eat.”
Her eyes went wide at the order. The pancake in her hand dropped down to the plate as he buried himself in her chest without warning, taking as much of her small breast inside her mouth as he could.
“Oh, god! W-what’re you doing?!” She asked, groaning quietly. “Sir,” she added quickly.
Harry pulled away from her, a thin trickle of saliva connecting his lips to her flushed and throbbing nipple. “Having dinner,” Harry growled, diving back in. He trapped her stiff nub between his teeth and gave it a gentle tug.
“F-fuck,” Hermione swore with a breathy moan, forgetting that her rules also forbade her from swearing. Her hands were trembling and she set the plate down on the counter for the very real fear of dropping it onto his head.
“Thell me,” Harry growled, his rough tongue tracing circles on her smooth, creamy skin, lapping up the sweet syrup. He hollowed out his cheeks, gently suckling on her breast.
“Y-yes, sir!” Hermione acquiesced with a soft moan. Her legs were trembling violently, an unfamiliar pressure building up in her belly. “I-I was with you. We were… we were making love,” she whispered, her sticky fingers threading through his messy black hair, gently guiding his lips to her other breast, so woefully devoid of attention.
“How?” Harry questioned before sinking his teeth into her creamy flesh, marking her skin with a huge hickey.
“O-on the bed. Ginny told me her sugar daddy once took her with her legs bent at that… OH GOD!” Hermione screamed as his lips closed around her other teat and began to suck once more. She slumped against the wall, unable to fight her growing arousal anymore. “A… a mating press. She showed me a-a picture,” Hermione stuttered in a daze. Her leg muscles were twitching and the tight coil in her belly was ready to explode. “T-thought it felt good. Wanted you…” she mumbled, her eyelids drooping.
“Please,” she begged, “please let me cum, sir,”
His eyes flickered up to her and he shook his head in an almost imperceptible nod. He began to suck with renewed vigor, stimulating the highly sensitive nub with his lips while his hand traveled to her other nipple and began to pinch and tug on it.
“Thank you sir, thank you sir, thank you sir,” Hermione chanted, her body feeling like rubber. She summoned up the last of her strength and moved a shaky hand down to her gushing pussy, gently massaging her clit with her fingers. “Thank you thank you, THANK YOU SIR!” she screamed, her mind going gloriously blank as she orgasmed, her cum squirting out of her pussy with enough force to spray his clothes from his stomach to his knees.
Harry slowly withdrew, letting the exhausted girl curl up on the large counter and catch her breath. Once he felt composed enough he picked her up bridal style, all thoughts of dinner forgotten.
“What’re you thinking, poppet?” Harry asked, cradling her tired body in his arms.
“I feel like I should be the one paying you for this arrangement,” Hermione mumbled, burying her face in the warmth of his chest.
Harry chuckled. “Trust me when I say, Miss Granger, that I had just as much fun as you did. Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” She shook her head, her messy brown curls flying around. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Not for food anyways.
“Alright.” He started walking out of the kitchen, slowly carrying her towards the staircase that led to the second floor of the house.
“Where are we going?” Hermione asked, wriggling with excitement.
“To see if me fucking you in a mating press lives up to your fantasy. It’s time you saw the playroom.”
Notes:
I mean, this story is just going to be sizzling hotness from one chapter to the other. And I'm happy with that prospect lol. PS. The whole moving together thing is my favorite trope. I like forced proximity, what can I say? The story isn't going to be Harry/Multi, but there will be occasional talk about his exes. Also, can you imagine James and Sirius trying to give the 'talk'? LOL. To make things fun, I'm putting a kink list in a random generator and focusing each chapter on the one it spits out. Want to add one to the list? Feel free to DM or Comment, and I'll add it! (I may say no to some I feel I'm not good at writing.)
Comments
R. Collins
Thanks! I am glad you are enjoying my stories!
Chalo Guerrero
Can't believe i just found out your work, can't wait for more
